you know she was with wolves?” he asked.
“Yes,” Emily said, watching Amber again.
“Then you should have considered the moon,” he admonished. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
Emily plucked at the blanket, uncomfortable at being scolded, especially when she knew he was right.
“I know,” she said softly.
“Let’s give this a try,” Paoli said, his voice very serious when he returned.
A gold necklace dangled from his hand, and the reeking smell of whatever was inside the charm made William back away, a scowl on his face.
“What the hell is that?” William demanded when Paoli crossed the room and slipped the necklace over Amber’s head.
“Wolfsbane,” Paoli said over his shoulder.
As the trio stood watching, the transformation gradually slowed.
Several minutes later, it stopped completely and Amber was left in exhausted human form. She crumpled in on herself. One last moan escaped her lips before she fell into a blissful state of unconsciousness.
Relief washed through Emily with enough force to make her knees weak.
“You fixed her,” she whispered breathlessly, her eyes tearful.
“Not exactly,” Paoli disagreed.
He held his hands out to ward her off when she stepped forward like she wanted to hug him.
“Cross,” he reminded.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Emily cried.
She quickly stepped back. Then a frown crossed her face when his words sank in.
“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?” she asked.
“Wolfsbane won’t cure lycanthropy. All it does is stop the wolf from being able to take over the body. All the rage is still there, but now it has no outlet,” he explained.
“What does that mean for her?” she asked.
She didn’t like the way that sounded. Amber wasn’t exactly known for her even temperament before.
Paoli looked back at William, who was now standing in the hallway to avoid the wolfsbane.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll keep looking for something more permanent, but at least this will buy her some time. It’s almost sunrise, and we all need to rest. There’s another bedroom down the hall.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Emily said absently, her eyes on Amber’s worn‐out form.
At least she was human again. Sort of.
“No,” William said sharply.
Both Paoli and Emily turned and stared at him.
“Until we have a chance to see what her mental status will be, it may not be safe,” William explained.
Paoli seemed to consider it, then nodded in agreement.
“That’s true,” he said. “Something like this may have left her . . . different.”
“But she’s my sister,” Emily objected. “We may have a troubled relationship, but I can’t imagine she’d ever actually harm me.”
It was ironic to be arguing about her safety with two men who killed people.
“We need to see if she’s still your sister when she wakes up. For tonight, you need to be safe so we can all rest,” William said.
He held his hand out to her and waited.
With a heavy sigh of surrender, she stroked Amber’s damp forehead one last time and left the room to meet up with him. She gave his outstretched hand a distrustful look and waved her own arm toward the hall, instead.
“Lead on,” she said with clear irritation.
Chapter 7
William led her to the spare room, trying to keep his mind clear of the images it seemed determined to show him.
Emily followed him around the room, politely nodding when he indicated the bathroom in the corner. He was not picturing her within the shower, naked and soapy.
He was not.
A sudden dry lump formed in his throat and he swallowed hard. With more speed than courtesy, he indicated fresh shirts in the drawer and left the room as quickly as possible. Being alone in a bedroom while not touching her was like torture, and he didn’t want to push his shaky control too far.
He closed the door behind him and found Paoli waiting in the hall, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
“We need to talk,” Paoli said solemnly.
A glance toward Amber’s room showed a wind chime on the knob of the closed door. It was low‐tech, but they’d hear the sound in a dead sleep.
Satisfied, William followed Paoli silently down the stairs and into the kitchen.
William settled into his favorite chair at the table and waited for Paoli to join him.
Paoli was never this quiet, so William braced himself for the worst. He watched Paoli heat two glasses of red liquid and visibly gather himself for a conversation he clearly didn’t know how to begin.
William took the glass Paoli handed him with a nod of thanks and gave an impatient sigh.
“Will you quit stalling and just come out with it?” William demanded shortly.
“I think we have a problem,” Paoli said finally.
He walked back to the sink and leaned against the cabinet, facing William.
William just stared at him for a moment, then offered a questioning half smile.
“Do you mean other than the condemned woman now resting upstairs?” he asked.
“Yes,” Paoli said slowly. “The problem is Emily. Well,” he hesitated, his face looking torn by indecision. “Not a problem, exactly. From what I’ve read, it’s actually a good thing.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m more concerned about the condemned woman we’re harboring instead of executing,” William cut in with a trace of sarcasm.
He tipped his glass and drained half the contents in a single swallow.
Paoli watched him in silence, his expressive face still uncertain.
“Quit stalling, old man,” William prodded.
When silence continued, he decided to put Paoli’s mind at ease.
“If you’re worried about the Coven, rest assured. I’ll carry through with their orders like I always have if they decide the execution stands. I’d never let them have you. Surely you know that,” he said.
Paoli gave him a pained smile.
“I do know that, and I appreciate it. But my concern isn’t for me,” he said.
Paoli took a deep breath and seemed to reach a decision at last.
“As you know, I’ve been reading on werewolves tonight. I think I’ve come across something that might explain what’s happening between you and Emily,” he said.
Paoli turned and retrieved a heavy tome from the counter behind him, then walked over and sat it in front of William.
It was a beautiful book with a handwoven navy‐blue front cover. It was decorated with ancient magic symbols, long forgotten by all but a select few. Paoli opened the book with one hand and pointed out the section.
“Here,” he said.
William leaned forward and read the yellowed pages of a book that looked old enough to